atlas of

there is a new book here at home. hammond's nature atlas of america. a biggish old book, flat black, mostly, with a mossy green fabric spine trimmed in gold. it smells of basement and army surplus stores. there's no publication date but it looks to be an early fifties book, swell graphics, swinging descriptions of of all things nature. and it covers everything. everything. the book tells you right up front it's not a scholarly work. it's for folks to get up close and chummy with nature. a bit of a nature fireside chat. but when i read bits of it i imagine everything as very clever conversation at a stylish cocktail party in 1953. gents in suits sipping martinis and ladies in those dresses that drape just at the shoulders, all collarbones and lipstick and stunning high heels. the author, e.l. jordan, ph.d, holds his drink carelessly and tosses out these witty bits of information on animals, plants, stones, mountains. the women nearby laugh the way i think dorothy parker did, leaning forward, head thrown back, mouth a loud oval- deep laughter. the men chuckle, faster and softer than the women, finishing off a drink and wandering away for another, wishing, a little bitterly, they could be so unbearably clever.

the book is crammed with lovely paintings and there are maps of all sorts scattered throughout. maps with shading and dotted lines and bold lines. i could stare at maps all day. when i was eight or nine, my grandpa gave me a massive book of maps of north america similar to this one. flora, fauna, geology, tectonic plates, volcanoes, evolution, fossils. it broke open something inside my head and now every map has directions for treasure.

each specific entry has one of these paintings, the name of the animal, plant, rock, etc., a caption and a descriptive paragraph. and here's where things get strange. the painting of the balsam fir shows a stand of fir trees with a forest fire raging in the lower left, behind them. what? a forest fire? then there's the opening of the little brown bat paragraph. "close the eyes of a bat with any kind of glue and it will fly with greater assurance than than with its eyes open." really? i think not. any kind of glue? how about a little blindfold, because i'm pretty sure getting an eyeful of glue is going to crash that poor bat's assurance. pretty sure.) the diamondback rattlesnake painting shows a rattler slithering over a human leg that's lying on the ground. the rest of the person is somewhere, dying, out of frame. there are two tiny fang holes on the ankle. whitefish might just be the creepiest. the whitefish photo is just a jumble of fish in a net. and the text next to is is mostly an uncomfortable description of artificial propagation of said fishes.

but it's the captions that got me most. they're supposed to sum up in a phrase the essence of the animal. these are some of the finer ones.

something of something:
ruffed grouse: chicken of the forest
common tern: swallow of the sea
road runner: clown of the desert
chimney swift: the bow and arrow of the sky
swordfish: tiger of the sea

personality/charm and poise:
flicker: man about town
gila monster: gentle in spite of its name (this is a curious choice because gila monsters are the only poisonous lizard in america. the paragraph goes on to say you can put one in a cage in the house and it will be mellow and gentle. who knew cooler temperatures could slow down cold-blooded beasts?)
baltimore oriole: a scrap of sunset with a voice (okay, fine. i wish i'd written that. i do.)
small-mouth bass: a strong and plucky spirit(this is only funny with the companion painting, which shows a bass, open-mouthed and belly up, floating on top of the water. as far as i can tell, this is not how plucky bass actually swim. this is how dead bass swim.)





opossum: star of southern folklore (star of the pavement beneath my tires.)
weasel: a handsome killer (never thought of a weasel as handsome. i'll look again one of these days.)
wolverine: a disagreeable countryman (the first line of the info tells us a "despicably mean character is the outstanding trait of this northern savage". i was expecting "tangerine of the wolf world".)
timber wolf: cruel killer, kind parent (it should be noted the wolf in the painting appears to be dead in a snowstorm. i have no idea, but i think the caption should read "you won this round, blizzard! avenge me, pups!")



for the most part i just didn't get these next few or i got them and they were creepy.
smelt: a tasty dish, and a candle burning (i get the tasty dish. i do not, even a little bit, get the candle burning. is this how you cook the tasty dish?)
dolphin: a miracle in death (this would be the dolphin fish, not the actual dolphin. evidently, when fisherguys haul up a dolphin fish it changes color as it slowly dies. folks report its death to be rather stunning, something to see, like the aurora borealis. "dude, let's go get drunk on one of those boats and watch the dolphin fish croak!")
nine-banded armadillo: his cousins are fossils (everyone's cousins are fossils.)
may beetle: also known as the june bug, relative of the scarab, is shown crawling around a stubby, snuffed out candle. i have never seen them do this. i don't think they do. it's stupid. and why does this bug have a may name and a june name. how about just "early summer beetle"?
bald eagle: the bird on the quarter (sure it's on the quarter. it's on the dollar bill. it perches atop flagpoles. it flies by where we go to fish. and it's our national symbol. the quarter isn't really the one you go with there.)
mosquitoes: blood is a very special juice (yes. yes it is.)

and i realize as i set down the words here they may not seem as funny to you. nor are you likely to find them nearly as charming. it's not just the words, it's the whole thing. it's the tone of the book. reference books for mass consumption used to all be more like this. conversational. conspiratorial. i've told you this and now we both know this clever secret. and i like being drawn in. who doesn't? i like being told secrets. no matter that a book might have sold plenty of copies when it was new. that book has been sleeping for years. whispering amiably to nobody. and while fifty or so years ago plenty of people were finding out that the flicker truly is a man about town, today nobody found that out but me. and sure i told the sweetie, sat next to him on the couch and read aloud from the book little bits i thought he needed, turned paintings toward him and demanded his undivided attention to the poor bass. and it's all yours now, too. this useless pile of words that doesn't go very far in helping you really know and animal, plant, etc. but opening that book the first time, letting my eyes drop down onto all those images and words, i felt like a pioneer, and explorer of new places. i felt like there was so much more out there, the way i did when i was eight or nine.